The Flower Prince
by NotYourDamsel
Summary: [SI/OC] Aerith knew there was something… different. He was supposed to be a she, after all. They just didn't take being a reincarnated boy into account. And he won't let them walk all over him, Flower Boy or now. He'll show them exactly why the Ancients were feared and revered when they were still alive.


**Summary: **Aerith knew there was something… _different_. He was supposed to be a _she_, after all. They just didn't take being a reincarnated boy into account. And he won't let them walk all over him, Flower Boy or now. He'll show them exactly why the Ancients were feared and revered when they were still alive.

**Warnings: **Canon Typical Violence, Language, AU, OC-Insert as Male!Aerith, Possible Slash/Yaoi, Hojo Being Creepy, Genesis Rhapsodos Himself, Zack's Shenanigans, Reno's Shenanigans, SOLDIERs' Shenanigans, Turks' Shenanigans, Sephiroth Being Clueless About Social Cues, Maiming Via Staff, Improper Use of Materias, etc.

**Disclaimer: **If I had owned the FFVII franchise, Cloud would actually have a Goddessdamned brain and use fucking Phoenix Down to revive Aerith, because I didn't go through hell to level her up for nothing, you little piece of shit.

* * *

Suisen has always loved flowers. It was hard not to, when your _kaa-san_ owns a flower shop.

He'd learned about him since he was a little kid, often following his _kaa-san _like a hopeless duckling, asking questions this way and that, never failing to amuse the customers his _kaa-san _served.

His _kaa-san _had made him sit on her lap one day, when the day was lazy and not many people had come, before slowly introducing him to _kaa-san's _special friends.

"They need love and care to grow, my little _hana-ouji_," she told him, lightly tracing a rose's petal. "With love and care, and _just _the right amount of water and sunlight, you can grow flowers _anywhere_."

"Anywhere?" he echoed, bright eyes shining with wonder. Was that really possible?

_Kaa-san _nodded, and he believed her. Because _kaa-san _never lies, and knows a _looooot _about flowers. His _kaa-san _was the Flower Goddess, after all!

Since then, he had learned the ropes of his _kaa-san's _work. Despite his classmates and friends telling him it was a 'girl's' job and doesn't pay really well, he didn't care for the money and simply wanted to take care of the plants that accompanied him throughout his life.

He learned both the Western and Eastern Flower Language for convenience's sake, and it proved to be rather helpful when a certain customer of his asked him 'how to say "fuck you" to a person using flowers'.

(He enjoyed that one, and Calvin Thompson was a very nice friend. If you ignore his penchant for cursing and smoking. Thankfully, he doesn't smoke inside the shop. Suisen taught him better than to do it again)

Life was calm and nice, just the way Suisen liked it. He didn't mind having all his days set in a routine of some sorts. There was always Calvin who'd crash and destroy his schedule, one way or another. It was sometimes hard to see how he became a professional photographer.

(He does still wonder why he's fond of taking photos of him, but would never get an answer other than a red face and him sputtering)

Yes, Suisen was satisfied with his life. Very much so.

And then he died.

.

(Painpainp_ain _and _heatheatheatfla__**mesrisinghigherandhigher—**_)

.

Strangely enough, he didn't stay dead.

.

Turns out, Reincarnation _was _real. Who would've thought that religion does have some merit?

* * *

.

His new home (if it can be even called as one) was… strange, to say the least.

His room, which was shared by his mother, was scarcely decorated, and looked more like a cell than a bedroom. Perhaps it was, now that he thought about it.

His mother was a beautiful woman with sorrow in her deep, emerald green eyes. He once feared that if he stared too long in her eyes, he would never be able to resurface again.

There were suspicious people that always checked them daily, either wearing white lab coats or suits as dark as the shadows. In all honestly, he liked the people wearing the suits more, if only because they were more lenient to him asking them to play with him, and would sometimes discreetly indulge him when no one was looking.

There was this one man wearing a lab coat that he _loathed_, one that made his mind all but _**screech **_at him to _getawaygetawaygetaway _and he did. As much as he can, he did.

There were times when he was allowed to wander outside his prison, times when he was 'tested'. For what, he didn't know, but it was satisfying to see them grumble and become frustrated at the lack of any progress showing. It made the secretly sadistic part of him that scared Calvin revel in it.

.

(Oh, Calvin. Sweet, sweet and kind Calvin. Did he cry morosely over his grave? Curse at him and his headstone? Stay silently still as they lowered his casket? He hoped he didn't become a chainsmoker, his cigarettes were already killing him enough as it is)

.

There was this one time that he slipped away from the scientists (or at least, he _thinks _they were), and came upon a curious sight.

Inside a glass cage, one that looked like an oversized cube, was a young boy with long limbs and short, stunning silver hair. He was sitting dejectedly at a corner, head bowed and hiding his face, a long strip of something was connected from his wrist to a machine. It was vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had seen something similar in a hospital once?

Curious, and more than a little worried, he tapped the clear surface, and asked, "Hello?"

Quick as a bullet, the boy's head jerked up, and his eyes—

He had seen those eyes before. Where had he—?

.

_("I will never be a memory.")_

_._

—oh. Oh.

It all made sense now.

The white lab coats, the suited men, his less-than-welcoming room, why some people looked so _guilty _and sad, his mother sometimes going _off _and speaking to somebody not there.

"Hi," he said, and tried not to let his shock and surprise show. The child—_Sephiroth!_—looked at him owlishly, as if he couldn't believe he was there. He probably was.

He wondered if anybody had spoken to him personally.

"Who are you?" he asked, and he was struck by how young and unsure he sounded. How _unlike_ Sephiroth he sounded. It made his heart clench and stomach turn unpleasantly.

"I'm—" he stopped, because who was he? Then he remembered, an image of flowers and a ruined church, of a great rainfall with drops of healing water, and continued, "—Aerith, son of Ifalna. Who are you?" He flashed him a small smile, careful not to show any teeth, and letting his palms rest on his sides where he can plainly see them.

Sephiroth still looked unsure, scanning him up and down with those unnerving, cat-like eyes of his that glowed an unearthly hue of neon green, before saying, "…Sephiroth. I… don't know who my parents are."

"Did you try asking? " Sui—_Aerith _suggested, tilting his head.

Sephiroth looked at him as if he was insane. "Professor Hojo doesn't like being questioned, says it's a waste of time."

Aerith furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, how are you going to learn if you aren't asking questions? It's alright to be curious, especially if it's something about yourself."

Sephiroth looked contemplative, before opening his mouth to—

"There you are! Who told you to run off like that?"

Aerith looked up and saw one of the suit—_Turks _(dear _kami_, he played **hide-and-seek **with Turks! No wonder they always found him so quickly!) approach him hastily, a hint of concern and relief underneath the mask of annoyance he usually used. His codename was Axe? Where was the axe, then?

.

(It probably said a lot about his sanity that he was wondering _where _the axe was instead of running away like any normal person would. He blames Calvin and his obsession with weapons. Besides, the Turks were pretty nice when you get to know them better. Maybe this was why Tseng was so fond of the original Aerith?)

.

"I'm sorry," No, he wasn't. And judging by the raised eyebrow, Axe knew as well. "But I made a new friend today! See?" He gestured to Sephiroth, who was staring at him in horror and awe. "His name is Sephiroth! Sephiroth, this is my other friend, Mr…." Aerith adopted a terrified expression. "I don't know your name…" tears gathered in his eyes. "I don't know my friend's name… I'm a terrible friend!"

Seeing the panicky looks on both of his friends' faces, it was totally worth it joining the Drama Club during his college years.

.

Hah, take that, Hamlet!

.

"N-No! You're not a terrible friend!" the Turk hurried to say, kneeling down to my height. "I didn't say my name, so it's my fault. _I'm _the terrible friend, not you, Aerith. You could _never _be terrible. **Ever**."

He sniffed, pouting at him cutely. "B-But, I sometimes wanna kick the meanies wearing white for being bad to you guys and giving you orders. Doesn't that make me terrible?"

The Turk smiled slightly, and ruffled my hair. "No, it makes you human. Humans normally feel that way to people they like, so it doesn't make you a terrible person, or a friend." Sighing, he leaned to his ear, and whispered, "My name is Carlos, but it's a secret between you and me, okay? You can call me Axe in public."

Wiping away his tears, Aerith nodded. "Okay, Mr. Axe. Oh!" He suddenly remembered something. If Carlos was a Turk, then maybe… "Mr. Axe, Turks are very sneaky, right?" Carlos looked amused at his choice of words, but nodded nonetheless. "The _sneakiest_. Why? Want to pull a prank on one pf the scientists?"

Pausing for a moment at the _very _tempting idea, Aerith shook his head. "No, maybe next time. But, can I ask you for a favor?" Carlos hummed, then shrugged and said, "Alright, 's long as it isn't anything related to Hojo. What is it?" Aerith glanced at Sephiroth, who was watching their exchange with wide, speechless eyes. It made Aerith want to wrap him in blankets and cuddle him endlessly. "Sephiroth doesn't know who his parents were, can you help us find them? Maybe even a picture? Please?" Seeing that Carlos was about to say no, Aerith pulled on the waterworks again. "It must feel horrible not knowing who your mama or papa are… I don't know what I'd do if I didn't know my mama…"

Carlos made the mistake of looking briefly to Sephiroth, who was quietly giving him a pleading look, and he must've known it as well, because he was sighing explosively and muttering underneath his breath words that children should most definitely not hear.

"Alright, alright. I'll call in a few favors and see what I can do. Worst comes to worst, I'll just take a strand of his hair and run it through the database, see if I can get any matches."

Squealing in glee, Aerith all but _squeezed _the living daylights out of the Turk, chanting 'Thank you's in repeat, and grinned happily at a gobsmacked Sephiroth. "Isn't that great, Sephiroth? You'll get to find out who your parents were!"

Aerith would forever remember the moment the little boy soon to be known as the fearless General crack a small, genuine smile, one that seemed to make his features look all the more beautiful and his eyes sparkle.

* * *

.

The day of his escape, Aerith wanted to bring Sephiroth with them.

Ifalna shook her head.

"It's too risky, my beloved flower," she murmured, and wasn't it funny, how both of his mothers called him flower? "They will stop at no cost to get him back if we do manage to get him out. And even then, we cannot hide for so long with someone as memorable as him."

Aerith wanted to protest, offer more reasons why _nobody _should be left at the hands of Shinra, of _Hojo_, but he knew his mother was right. And Sephiroth _needed _to stay in Shinra. No matter how much it made Aerith want to vomit all over.

"Can I at least say goodbye?"

Ifalna nodded, and caressed his cheek.

* * *

.

"You're leaving?"

.

Aerith nodded, and he could see the exact moment Sephiroth's whole world collapsed. He knew he was his anchor, the reason why he didn't become closed-off or cold, and it broke Aerith's heart to see the light dull in his eyes as he processed what he had said.

"Not forever," Aerith started, regaining his attention. "One day, we will meet. I'm sure of it."

"Does the Planet say so?"

Aerith smiled. "No, even the Planet cannot tell the future."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"Because I just _know_. Here, take this."

Untangling the pink ribbon that held his hair up, he slid it underneath the crack where food went through for Sephiroth to eat.

"Keep this, it'll be a lucky charm and a remembrance. Proof that you're not alone."

Sephiroth gripped the fabric tight against his chest, and looked at him with watery eyes. "I'll see you again, right?"

Placing a palm on the glass that separated them both, he smiled as Sephiroth placed a hand of his own as if they were touching his.

"Of course. And when we meet, nobody will keep us away from each other ever again."

The smile Sephiroth gave him was feeble at best, but Aerith liked it better than the frown he previously wore.

* * *

.

Ifalna dying hurt, but he had to move on.

Elmyra was kind, but overly cautious, never letting him go farther than the gardens. While the obvious care was appreciated, it rankled his nerves more often than not, and he had lost count of how many times he had to go out into the gardens lest he blow up on Elmyra.

Of course, he managed to wear her down to allow him at least every Wednesday and Thursday to wander about, and Aerith was more than happy to explore the Slums of Midgar, taking care to greet and smile at every face he saw. Their reactions were amusing, and perhaps it was mean of him to take delight in scaring the shit out of them, but he was lonely and needed human interaction as much as flowers needed the sun.

Finding the very same church the original Aerith liked to hang out at was a pleasant surprise, and he immediately got to work in making it more… lively.

.

With enough love and care, flowers can grow anywhere, after all.

* * *

.

It was when he was thirteen that he met Tseng.

He had not expected the Turk to appear from somewhere near his left, and thus he was absolutely justified in shrieking shrilly and throwing the watering can he had at him before he could even get a word in.

The fact that he actually lost consciousness shouldn't be as funny as it had been. Shouldn't it be frying pans that knocked people to sleep?

* * *

.

Despite their less than friendly start, they had become fast friends and was more than comfortable with each other to be in first name basis. Well, it wasn't as if Tseng _had _a given last name, but still.

"Can you teach me Wutuaian?" Aerith asked as he loosened the soil around the flowers. They were growing marvelously, and Tseng was hard pressed not to gape whenever he saw another sprout bloom into a beautiful flower.

"Why?" he asked instead of answering, and Aerith pouted before complying. "Nothing, really. I just want to get to know you better. It could be like a secret language between us!"

Tseng smiled fondly at him, like he always does whenever Aerith says or does something so unlike a normal person would, and he nodded. "I'll write down a few letters for you to start at, then we'll see how it goes from there."

Barely containing his squeal of delight, Aerith all but pounced on the unsuspecting Turk and hugged him to death.

* * *

.

The news of the Great General Sephiroth had reached his ears soon enough, and Aerith cried a bit when Tseng handed him a newspaper during one of their meetings.

"Can you look after him for me?" he asked, voice deathly soft, fingers crinkling the black and white papers under his grip. "Please?"

Tseng stayed silent. He didn't ask how they knew each other, didn't ask for anything in return. He simply hugged him carefully and murmured his assent, letting him cry on his suit for as long as he needed to.

* * *

.

Aerith had taken to sending care packages to the Unholy Trinity, as he had taken to calling them. Tseng finds it witty, and admits to using it when referring to the trio during his reports. The other Turks find it funny, as well.

Some plants and guides for Angeal, and a note to tell him to 'stop dillydallying and use your big sword already! You're giving it shame for not using it as is needed and made to!'. Genesis receives some of Aerith's own thoughts about LOVELESS, along with some flowers with their meanings attached. Sephiroth gets food and hand-knitted scarfs and sweaters, along with letters that always remind him that he's not alone.

He also joins their fanclubs to get a better read on what's happening to them, once Tseng got him a PHS (for reasons unknown). It was hilarious, seeing girls find out the exact brand of his childhood friend's shampoo, and often teased Tseng with the fangirls' success in infiltrating Shinra without them knowing.

"Maybe you should recruit them."

Tseng shuddered. "I'd rather not have any more headaches, thank you very much."

Aerith laughed, and that was that.

* * *

.

At first, he was wondering _how _he could help Genesis and Angeal without revealing himself, since he already made the pond full of healing water (Tseng's reaction to _that _was priceless), then he decided to send it along with his care packages as a 'herbal tea' for calming the nerves. He knows that Angeal would _at least _make them drink it once, and that was all Aerith needed.

That problem solved, Aerith set off to visit Wall Market to buy some supplies.

Then he bumped into someone and—

.

"Whoa, there! You okay? Hope I didn't hurt you or anything, that would _really _suck."

.

—what in the name of the Goddess is Zackary Fair doing here!?

* * *

**A/N: This plotbunny just popped into existence during History class, and goddammit was it distracting me from knowing how the **_**fuck **_**shit went down between Japan and the other countries.**

**Still not sure who to pair my Aerith with, tho. I mean, I can make him end up with Tseng, but that's too meh. I was actually thinking of pairing him with Genesis, or maybe even Reno or Cloud. What do you guys think?**


End file.
